


Tumblr Ficlets

by SuperAnarchy



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Bubble Bath, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Light presence of violence and mention of homophobia in the fourth chapter, M/M, Marriage Proposal, superbowl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperAnarchy/pseuds/SuperAnarchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short writings from my Tumblr. See individual chapters for more infos ^.^</p><p><b> *New Chapter posted on the 08/10</b> : I just wanna feel your lips against my skin.  (◕◡◕✿)<br/>Last Chapter posted on the 19/06: In which Sebastian gets jealous of the Ukulele someone offered Chris for his 34th birthday!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Superbowl, Patriots and Fucking Tom Brady.

**Author's Note:**

> Superbowl 2015, Patriots just won and that makes Chris really happy, and if Chris is happy, Sebastian is happy. Well, no, it’s more like : If Chris is happy, then Chris is a really passionate lover, and that makes Sebastian really happy.

It doesn’t take long for Chris after that overwhelming victory to drag Sebastian to the closest bathroom of the stadium. Laughing and smiling, jumpingeverywhere like an excited five years old. Although he looks nothing like afive years old besides that bright smile and those gorgeous sparkling blue eyes.

Between a few “Fuck, god what a fucking game, that was insane !” and some “I mean holy shit Seb, did you see that ? In-fucking-sane.” And also a few mentions of Tom Brady -that Sebastian chooses to ignore for now, because yes, Tom Brady was unbelievable tonight- Chris is fast to push him –ever so gently- against the nearest wall. Lips brushing roughly at his neck and mouth.

“What a fucking game,” is what Chris keeps repeating, again and again and again and _again._  Usually that would drive Sebastian nuts, because Chris can ramble for hours about the same subject without noticing, but tonight he’s happy for him and his team. Happier because that means Chris is in  _really good mood._ And if Chris is happy, Sebastian is happy. Well, no, it’s more like : If Chris is happy, then Chris is a really passionate lover, and  _that_  makes Sebastian  _really_  happy.

So soon, unsurprisingly, Sebastian has his pants around his ankles, and Chris is still going on with his contagious cheerfulness, bragging about the Patriot’s victory. Not forgetting to mention to Sebastian how beautiful he is – or it wouldn’t be Chris.

For a second Sebastian wonders if Chris will finally shut up about Tom Brady because _right fucking now_  isn’t the greatest moment to hear his boyfriend mention – _moan_ \- the name of another man, but he realize that the beers and the stress took over Chris and he’s probably not even aware he already said that name around thirty times (33 exactly. Yes he counted.).

Sebastian, still grinning at the vision of Chris being so joyful and jubilant  _and proud_ (because Chris is already handsome, but arrogant-tipsy-Chris is a fucking deal to witness, so alluring) Sebastian is holding tight on Chris, his legs wrapped around his torso and finding balance against the wall.

He also drank a little (maybe more than a little, but he still hasn’t figured out how to say no to Chris’ smile when he gently offers him a beer with heart in his eyes), so he has to admit he doesn’t really remember how they came that fast to fucking, he barely remembers any foreplay or even how he got so used to Chris thrusting in him that fast, but now Chris is and Sebastian has to keep his voice low and watch out for Chris to not express his pleasure too loudly either.

But Chris is still going on about that game, and that last quarter, and those actions and  _fucking patriot Tom Brady._ And believe him when Sebastian says it’s really frustrating to come close to reaching an orgasm and hear that name  _one more damn time_  from the lips kissing you all over.

Part of Sebastian wants to tell him to shut up already and just fuck him good, but it’s also a bit…. Arousing. All those words spit out at once, and Chris’ happiness, and his body covered of sweat, and the way he kisses him passionately, his hands possessing him. So the other part wins, and Sebastian desperately tries to make him stop talking by kissing him and refusing to leave his mouth.

That’s a bit of a problem once he finally get to reach that orgasm that has been tormenting him for a few minutes though, because he  _bites_ Chris’ lower lip to the point he can feel the taste of blood on his tongue, but Chris didn’t react, didn’t even notice apparently and Sebastian has the bad idea to leave his lips to take a look at the fresh injury and that’s when Chris moans so loud.  _Oh god_ , so loudly.

In a normal, usual time Sebastian would just be glad to hear that noise, except they’re in a bathroom where anyone can be around, where anyone can hear them, so he can’t help but blush and prays ( _first to not hear Chris saying that damn Tom Brady’s name again, because he swears this time he’ll kick Chris’ ass_ ) that nobody heard them.

He laughs when Chris tries to clean his mess with toilet paper, a bit ashamed that he soiled Sebastian’s pant that now has a big stain, laughing a little less when he opens the door to see a smiling Chris Pratt.


	2. Make a wish.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chris is a romantic babe.

When night fell for the first time that week, Chris was admiring the clear, bright sky outside in his garden. Melting at beauty of the immensity above his head. Under his feet. He was losing himself in deep thoughts, about how the world was spinning in the emptiness, about how he  _was_  a tiny part of the universe; a little dust floating into space, only attached to earth by something called gravity. He was marvelling at the magic of the world surrounding him when two arms grabbed his waist, and a little head sneaked itself against his neck, dry lips leaving a soft, light kiss on his flesh.

It’s cheesy to say, but Chris would recognize that presence out of thousands. The smell, the warmth, the way the lips feels on his skin. He would lie if he said it was only the wind that’s responsible for the chills covering his body. When Chris says he’s desperately romantic, the first reaction people usually have is to sort of laugh. But he is. Desperately romantic. Desperately in love with Sebastian. He’s in love with every bit of him.

In love with his voice, his hands, his laugh, his lips. In love with the way he dresses himself, the way he doesn’t care that much about what people can think, can say. What a huge dork he is. How he can warm their bed in just a few minutes. How grumpy he always is until he drinks his coffee in the morning, and then becomes the cutest kitten he’s ever seen. How he can say something and regret it as soon as the words leave his mouth. His awful taste in beer. How he can tell the stupidest jokes and smile proudly at them. He’s in love with his hugs, his kisses. His eyes. His hair. His hips. The fact that his fingers always reach for Chris’ no matter where they are, what they’re doing. In love with the way he loves him. The way he calms him.

There’s not a single thing Chris doesn’t find irresistible about Sebastian, each of his flaws is a part of why he loves him.

Chris’ own hands reached for Sebastian’s when he wrapped them around his torso, sliding inside the sleeves of his hoodie while Sebastian rested his chin on Chris’ shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” Sebastian murmured.

 _You’re beautiful,_ Chris thought. “It is,” he said instead, allowing his head to fall and rest on Sebastian’s.

“Look, a shooting star. Quick, make a wish.”

Chris guessed there was a smile on Sebastian’s lips, felt his arms tightening around his chest. He also guessed that Sebastian made his wish before pointing the star out to Chris, to be sure he had the time to do so.

“I made mine, have you?”

Chris thought there was nothing he could wish for, that he had all he desired already, but it wasn’t true. You can always wish for something, you’re allowed to hope for something else, even when you seem to have everything. He had a loving family, great friends, a wonderful boyfriend, a successful career. So Chris made the wish to keep all of that, nothing more, nothing less. To let his happiness last just a little longer.

Instead of an answer, Chris turned his head so he could watch Sebastian’s face, smiled then. Observing every single detail, traits lighten by the moonlight. He lost himself a little deeper in his mind, feeling a sincere gratitude, thankfulness for everything. Fate, destiny. For bringing Sebastian into his life. Everything that caused him to meet this guy one day, to worked with him. To fell in love with him. For him to share that sentiment. To be this lucky.

His eyes screamed I love you, his lips craved to be warmed, his fingers were dying to touch Sebastian’s whole body, but Chris just stayed still and stared at the handsome man pressed against his back.

_I love you, I want you, I need you. Never leave me, please. I’m myself when I’m around you, you complete me. I want to grow old with you. I want to be your family, I want you to be mine. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. I would cherish you, make you feel like you’re the king of the world. I don’t see what’s the point of living if you’re not with me. Please Sebastian,_

“Marry me?” When the two words escaped his lips, Chris wasn’t sure he had just said them aloud. His heart skipped a beat, and his breathing got heavier when he realised it. When he saw Sebastian grasp what he just said, he remained silent. Both of them so quiet in appearance but with brains shouting in every way.

Time felt like it was suspended.

And then, Sebastian smiled, a genuine half hidden smile, the hot air escaping his nostrils lingering on the skin of Chris’ neck. Chris decided that, the stars shining in Sebastian’s eyes at this exact moment were more beautiful, definitely more breathtaking than the ones above their heads.

“Yes,” Sebastian whispered before clearing his throat.

When the night had fallen for the first time that week, Chris never thought that this night would mark the rest of his life. Their life. 


	3. Evanstan and Bubble Bath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When, after a long day, Chris finally comes back home, it’s only to find Sebastian taking a bath.

“Baby, I’m home!” Chris throws his keys on the bar, and walks towards the fridge looking for something to eat. There’s nothing interesting there in his opinion, not even a beer, and that’s a shame. He slams the door and hasn’t heard any answer yet he yells again, “Babe?!”

He can hear people talking so TV must be on, dishes have been done, windows are open. All the evidence points to Sebastian being home as well. “Sebastian?” he tries again, moving to the living room.

“Here,” he hears a small voice answering.

“ _Which_  here?” He may be wrong but he’s pretty sure the voice is coming from or near the bedroom.

“Bathroom.” Close enough.

“How was your day?” Chris starts shouting when he reaches the bedroom, taking off his jacket and throwing it on the bed, kicking his shoes off across the room. He’s not stopping his continuous flow of words until he starts walking to the bathroom, hopping from one foot to another taking off his socks, “Mine was fucking exhausting I had to-  _oh_ ”

What he sees catches his eye and apparently burns every part of his brain responsible for using words, making sentences and basically thinking. Sebastian is taking a bath, a bubble bath. Most of the bubbles have disappeared though, not that Chris minds, all he can see is bare, wet chest of his boyfriend. He looks so damn gorgeous under the spotlights Chris doesn’t even notice he’s stopped talking.

“Hi” Sebastian says softly, turning his face to lay his eyes on Chris. Honoring him with that cute smile known to cause heart attacks and permanent brain damaged to anyone unprepared.

“ _Hi_ ” Chris manages to whisper in a breath, completely stunned, amazed by the delicious vision of his boyfriend wet and naked. Surrounded by a little foam.

Sebastian raises his eyebrows, leaning his head to one side, like a puppy, “You were saying?” He looks adorable, his voice sounds peaceful. Is he secretly dating an angel… Or maybe a Romanian cherub?

“Hm?” Chris answers, marvels. He can’t seem to pay attention to anything, not even to formulate actual words.

“Your day!” Sebastian laughs charmingly.

“Oh,” Eyes still staring, Chris looks completely empty. “Yeah,” he slowly comes back down to earth. “Right.” Still not completely able to make a proper sentence apparently. “Hm,” that’s still not a word and he already said it twice. “Know what?” But do you even know  _what_  Chris, at least now he’s using words, that’s encouraging, “We’ll talk about it later.”

He’s still planted there, unable to move, like a flower pot abandoned in the middle of the sidewalk. Almost gawking.

“Okay.” Sebastian’s using that smile again. Chris could swear with that smile, he could bloodily murder Mother Theresa, become a cannibal, have every proof pointing to his direction; even videos for that matter, and everyone would acquit him and offer him their firstborn as an apology for the damages the trial caused him. Yes, he can swear that.

“Join me?” That’s not the cute smile Sebastian’s giving him anymore, that’s lip biting and that’s worse. But at least it has the merit of pulling Chris out of his thoughts,  _if he was even thinking in the first place_.

Chris shakes his head, and chortles. He starts taking off his shirt, faking the beginnings of a strip tease, and throws it to the ground.

“C’mon, you’re kidding me Chris? Put it in the goddamn laundry basket.”

“If that pleases you, sweetheart.” Chris says, following instructions. “But now you ruined my motivation to do a strip tease.”

“That pleases me very well, thank you. Now you take off your pants and you join me.” Sebastian orders with a smirk.

“Mm, bossy.” He sinks his teeth in his lower lip outrageously, taking off his pants.

Sebastian wriggles his eyebrows seductively in response when Chris moves closer to the bathtub, still wearing his boxer.

“You’re not gonna keep those on, are you?” he asks, half not amused by this stupid idea, half completely amused by this hilarious idea.

“Patience,” Chris mumbles as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, bending over Sebastian, leaning on him.

He presses his lips against his, softly at first, then he takes Sebastian’s lower lip between them and finally grasps them between his teeth. Sebastian opens his mouth, asking for more, asking for Chris’ tongue, offering him an access to meet  _his_  eager one.

An offering Chris gladly accepts. He grabs his boyfriend’s face in his hands, deepening the kiss, swallowing Sebastian’s moans. Tasting him.

His fingers are stroking Sebastian’s hair when he feels a wet hand on his bare back and drops of water flowing and rolling on it. He barely breaks the kiss, just enough to whisper “Give me a second.”

He gets up on his feet and slides his underwear to his ankles, under the reproving gaze of Sebastian.

“Chris-” He starts reprimanding with a sigh.

“I’m already picking it up, you maniac!” Chris jokes, throwing his underwear to the laundry basket like he’s playing basketball.  _He scores_.

“I hope it’s hot.” He asks, turning back to face Sebastian, beaming.

“I am.” Sebastian over-articulates to tease him, tempting him.

“I meant the water, but that’s also good to know, I’ll take note of that.”

“Take  _me,_  instead.” Sebastian commands, seductively licking his lower lip now.

“Dirty mood, uhn?”

“Problem?” he responds with a grin, playful.

“On the contrary! Bossy-dirty mood is my favorite.” Chris smiles widely.

“Then climb in that fucking bath already and I’ll show you how dirty I can be.” He provokes him, waving the water with his hands, inciting him to join him in the bathtub.

Who is he to refuse such a proposition? Chris put a foot in the bath first, the water isn’t really hot, in fact it’s barely warm. Sebastian must have stayed in it for awhile already. He puts his other foot in it and he’s standing up on the bathtub. Sebastian apparently really likes the view from below because Chris can see him sinking his teeth in his lower lip. Chris crouches but half the water in the tub overflows, pouring out of the bathtub.

“Oops,” Chris badly fakes an apology.

“Fuck Chris!” Sebastian’s eyes widen, contemplating the huge amount of water on the floor. If Chris didn’t know him better he would bet Sebastian is internally swearing in Romanian and crying over the now soaked carpet that he loves.

Chris falls forward, lying on Sebastian, slides his arms under his back. He starts planting multiples quick kisses on his neck and his cheeks fervently. Sebastian is laughing under him, squirming. Chris moves one of his hands from under him to reach his face, sliding his wet fingers in his hair. Starring eye to eye, he presses his lips against Sebastian’s and they quickly invite their tongues to the kiss.

After a few long seconds, Sebastian breaks the kiss just to murmur in Chris’ mouth.

“You’d better clean up your mess after.”


	4. Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings : Angst, Visual description of violence and homophobia.

He’s sitting in his couch, and Chris is sitting in a chair in front of him. Leaning against the bar linking his kitchen to his living room. They don’t talk. The only sounds are their loud breathing, matching in rhythm with the traffic outside. 

They don’t stare at each other. They don’t look at each other. They don’t glance at each other. In fact, they try their best to avoid any kind of eye contact.

His head hurts, his whole body hurts. He would have thought being exhausted and wounded would have stopped his thoughts from stirring, but no. It’s nothing like that, it’s actually worse. He keeps remembering everything. Like an endless circle.

The bar. The insults. The fight.

He remembers the words that were used. The insults he heard, and a spasm contracts his fingers, turning his hurt and bloody hand into a familiar fist again. He shakes his head. The words.

He remembers how the night started out great, everyone laughing, joking, having fun. One of those nights where everyone was reunited. Fun was supposed to be the key word. Instead of that, bloody or catastrophic are probably more accurate now.

He’s shaking his legs, it’s involuntary and unconscious. He can feel himself boiling inside, or maybe he just wants to throw up. Not entirely sure. Both. Both are probably right.

It tingles, stings, prickles, burns. That’s unpleasant. That’s painful but it’s tolerable.

He remembers drinking, drinking a lot. Not enough to get him drunk but surely enough to get him tipsy, muzzy perhaps. That probably explains why the pain is tolerable. And also why everything he sees is getting blurry and slow.

He’s not complaining, doesn’t want to, doesn’t have the strength to anyway. The night started great but it escalated into a blood-spattered fight in just a few minutes. He remembers that.

He remembers it was Scarlett’s turn to go to the bar and bring back shots.

He can feel the blood beating in his temples, as if his heart was beating in his head. A veil obstructs his hearing. Buzzing. He’s hoping he didn’t permanently lose any of his hearing. He did get a nasty punch in the ear.

Not the only punch he received.

He remembers hearing Scarlett saying someone grabbed her ass and started being insistent when she came back. He remembers her telling them that it was okay because she handled the situation and she’s a grownup “but thank you sweetie” when Chris said it was unacceptable.

He must have bruises everywhere by now, and it stings him in places he never thought it was possible to get hurt. Even when he went to the gym, he never found a way. And he tried, believe him.

He remembers enjoying the night with his cast mates. He remembers fighting with and helping some of them. Avoiding punches but taking some as if he was born for that. As if his training was more helpful than he had ever thought it would. Remembers the taste of blood in his mouth. Groaning in pain. Remember taking one in his stomach so Mackie wouldn’t.

He remembers everyone –including him- saying that it was intolerable, and he remembers Chris asking which guy it was. He remembers Scarlett refusing to say because she handled it.

He remembers she finally designed him because Chris asked her to and promised nothing bad would happen. Remembers Chris coming to her defense by walking to the bar with her so the man would apologize.

He winces in pain trying to lie back on the couch, a hand on his ribs.

Remembers everyone was listening to what was happening because they supported Chris for doing that. He remembers the argument started quickly.

He winces again when he tries to straighten himself because he is too curled up on himself and the then-asleep injuries fucking hurts now.

He remembers hearing the word that started the fight, that made Chris -the calm and always serene and tranquil when things starts to get a little out of control Chris- throw the first punch. He remembers watching Chris’ face when he heard it. He remembers the smirk on the guy’s face when he said it.

He remembers everyone jumping on their feet and walking fast to join Chris. He remembers seeing Frank grabbing Scarlett’s arm and pulling her away so she wouldn’t get hurt.

He’s sore, exhausted, he wants to close his eyes but he finally glances at Chris, he still hasn’t moved an inch. Livid.

He remembers how they were outnumbered but it’s not like each and every one of them didn’t count for two, maybe three men. Frank definitely worth three guys with his skills. He remembers all the words that had been shouted.

He remembers the punches, the kicks. Remembers his back crashing into the bar in a deafening pain. Remembers it hurt him too when his knuckles hit someone’s jaw.

He remembers the silence in car on their ride home.

The silence that never left.

He looks at Chris and the vision hurts him more than his injuries.

Chris, his boyfriend Chris, is leaning against the bar, an ice-pack pressing into his jaw. Dead in the eyes. Like a ghost, lost in his thoughts. Dried blood clinging his face. Empty.

 

“Why do you care  _fag_  ?”


	5. If you don’t put that Ukulele down Chris, I’ll shove it up your ass.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sebastian gets jealous of the Ukulele someone offered Chris for his 34th birthday.

Since his birthday party, Chris has been blissful. More blissful than usual. Not that Sebastian minds, not at all; he loves the way the corner of his lips curve up, how his cheekbones and dimples suddenly appear, rose-red tinted, making him notice the freckles he often forgets the existence of; his eyes lightening with softness and innocence; definitely, Sebastian loves when Chris is happy. When Chris smiles. It makes him smile too.

What he loathes is the reason behind his blissful state. Well,  _one_  of the reasons because Sebastian’s one of them, right? –At least, he’s got to be. Because Chris is the main reason of his happiness. What is making Chris ecstatic lately is one of the presents he got from an anonymous friend for his 34th birthday. Nobody signed the gift, but Chris has not left it for a single second since he opened it.

So yeah, basically, what Sebastian loathes is a Ukulele. A fucking, stupid, loud ukulele. It’s not the instrument per se that’s annoying you see? It’s not even the sound of it. It’s just Chris using it. It’s Chris using it 24/7 and it’s driving him nuts. Where he goes, Chris follows, playing that damn satanic piece of wood.

Making lunch? How great, yeah, good idea Chris, just stand there and play it until I’m done cooking.

Wanna take a shower my love? Oh no, that’s fine, just stay on the couch and play a little more.

Hey, babe, what do you say we go out and grab diner? Oh no, you’ve got a headache _, I fucking wonder why._

Okay, let’s be fair: Skipping pleasant one-on-one time cooking together like they often do, Sebastian can accept that. Not taking a long, loving shower with his boyfriend – let it pass. It’s not like they can’t do it later, right? But just, Chris, _Chris_ saying no, denying Sebastian the joy of having sex with him? Two nights in a row? Because of this stupid instrument? No.

Nope, no, no way, that’s asking too much. He’s not that understanding. He’s not that compliant.

So when Chris is lying on the couch, in front of Sebastian, playing this evil ukulele and Seb has been glancing at him seductively for the past twenty minutes now; wetting his lips and darting his tongue out with the main purpose of teasing him, without any response, he just loses it.

“If you don’t put that ukulele down Chris, I’ll shove it up your ass,” Sebastian says, clear and simple.

And Chris looks up at him, surprised; looking all innocent, like he never suspected that playing that fucking ukulele all day long instead of paying attention to his eager boyfriend would make the said boyfriend upset. Well too bad, because Sebastian  _is_ upset, a bit childish and two hundred percent offended that Chris is more obsessed by his present than by him, lying half-naked, before his eyes.

He’s not that bad looking after all! Jesus Christ, he’s been working out so hard, grew his beard, and his hair –and god knows how much Chris likes to pull those long hair. He’s fucking handsome, and jealous of a piece of wood with four strings.

“What?” Chris finally laughs.

“You heard me.”

“I did, that’s why I’m laughing,” and Sebastian is weak, the sound of Chris’ laugh, and the look on his face, he fights the smile growing on his lips.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asks, still with that idiotic, contagious laugh; cackling beautifully. He might not be bad-looking himself, but Chris is a fucking masterpiece, everything about him makes Sebastian fall in love a little more each day. His stupid laugh, his stupid face, his stupid self.

And Sebastian hides his face against the cushion, refusing to speak by fear of laughing aloud. He’s supposed to be upset at him, not laughing along. You’re an actor Seb, come on, keep it together, stop being a teenager in love.

“Babe?” Chris asks again, a question lost between the lovely sounds escaping his throat, “is that a way to say you’re sexually attracted to music instruments? Because oh boy, I’d be concerned.”

“I fucking hate that ukulele, okay?” Sebastian says with a wide smile. Chris snorts and Sebastian sends the cushion straight to his face. “Fuck you.”

“So much fucking…” Chris teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Funny, I would have said not enough.”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about!” Chris laughs louder and Sebastian looks away, looks at the dinning table still covered by some of Chris’ presents. “Oh c’mon! Babe, I was just tired and hungover, this has nothing to do with you.”

“Okay, maybe,  _maybe_ but you’re just playing with your damn gift all the time and it’s like I’m invisible.” Sebastian responds, sitting up on the couch and watching at Chris who hasn’t moved.

“You’re the one who offered it to me, how can you say that?”

“What?”

Chris sits up, putting the Ukulele down on the table in front of him. “I know it’s from you, I thought you liked knowing how much I enjoy it.”

“How do you know?”

“Who else could it be? You always have the greatest ideas.”

“And so what? Playing it 24/7 is payback for trying to be romantic?”

Chris smiles again, stands up to walk in his direction and sit next to him, “You’re right,” he says, brushing Sebastian’s hair back behind his ear, “I haven’t paid enough attention to you these past few days, let me make it up to you.”


	6. I just wanna feel your lips against my skin.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian really wants Chris to want him.

Sebastian gets him to his room, somehow. Just luck. Just friends. Friends being friends. Friendly friends. That’s it. Nothing more. Two guys, in one room, with one bed, but with no intention of using it. The thought makes him sad.

Sebastian’s got things on his mind. Things he can’t speak of. Can’t tell. Not to Chris, not to anyone. Not only not now, but not ever.

Chris drinks; last drink. Just friends. Sebastian watches him swallowing, wishing to drink from his mouth. He wishes those lips would kiss him like they’re kissing that bragging glass. He watches, envious of crystal and of a lighter. Chris plays with it, long skilled fingers make it dance on his knuckles. Sebastian would kiss them. Knuckles. Fingers. Hands.

He’d kneel at his feet and worship those hands.  

Sebastian drinks, swallowing that unspeakable wish. He drinks another sip to numb the pain. Vodka is in his throat and mouth, trying to appease the drought in vain. Chris speaks and Sebastian’s heart stops, skips a beat.

Chris is leaving and taking Sebastian’s heart with him. Sebastian smiles as Chris gets up on both feet. Sebastian gets up too, leads him to the door. Wanting to hold him back; Sebastian won’t, he never does. He’ll lie on the bed and pray he’ll once find the strength to. But Sebastian won’t, again.

Not tonight.

Sebastian has a hand on the doorknob. Chris is near the door, alcohol drawing the most beautiful lie on his lips. He leans in, to say goodbye, Sebastian thinks. Chris doesn’t. Not yet. 

Sebastian stiffens, Chris’ lips on his _._ Sebastian doesn’t react at first then he pulls away. Hating himself as soon. He should have savour the mistake instead of breaking the dream.

Chris smiles then whispers; _not a mistake_. Still a dream. He doesn’t want him like Sebastian does; Sebastian doesn’t care. Chris kisses him again. Sebastian responds. Tiptoes. Keen, eager, a little too much; Chris doesn’t mind. He lifts him, sweeps Sebastian off his feet so easily like he did with his heart when they first met.

Chris pushes him against the wall, tongue in his mouth. So good that Sebastian blushes from his moan. More. More _. More, more, more._ Hands on his strong neck, Sebastian waits. Waits for Chris to carry him to the bed, undress him.

Chris gets him naked, eyes scanning. Liking, not loving. Sebastian settles for that. It’s much more than he would’ve thought he’d ever get. Sebastian gets him naked too, loving. Chris is so tall and strong and handsome and perfect. Sebastian loves every muscles and line drawn on this perfect masterpiece. From head to toe, Chris is a masterpiece.

Sebastian gets Chris to kiss his body and chest, to go lower, and Sebastian gasps before Chris’s done anything. Chris looks up, eyes shining with amusement. He’s loving the game, but not him.

Sebastian can settle for that too; it’s okay because Chris’ smooth lips follows his curves and kisses and licks. Chris takes him in mouth after so many teases; so good that Sebastian clutches at the sheets.

Chris plays with him in a delightful way. He gets a finger in him and Sebastian doesn’t follow how and when and why it feels so good and slick. He loosens his grip on the sheets, fists and knuckles hurting from it. Chris moves, twists, crooks and Sebastian moans, hears himself already asking for Chris.

Chris is lucid enough, but Sebastian isn’t. Chris stays still and adds another one of his worshipped fingers. Sebastian adds another one of his moans to the silence of the room. There is a growing heat within him, and a desire boiling underneath Chris’ hand on his belly.

A third one and Sebastian squirms, sitting up and surprising Chris. He catches his mouth and whines when Chris takes his fingers off him. Chris draws away, leaves his lips on Sebastian’s neck. Before he understands, Chris rolls him on the bed.

And Chris’ lips on his skin and that taste in his mouth, that tongue that was dancing with his ghosting inside and the believable lies behind every peck Chris leaves on his flesh, Sebastian loses his mind again. Chris moves and crawls, loves like an animal. He hits and snaps his hips and Sebastian moans and whines.

He begs and cries; Chris breathes so close that Sebastian shudders and smiles. He laughs because Chris does too; that lingering sound he wants forever to chime in his ears. Chris’ fingers wander up his spine. They draw lines and get him drunk on the touch. Sebastian’s drunk on his touch, on his hands and on his lips.

Chris licks behind his ear and Sebastian shudders again; Chris laughs, he whispers how adorable he finds him and Sebastian blushes from his words, and also from the state Chris gets him in. Sebastian’s a trembling, whimpering mess nearly begging for more. More. More. More.

He wants more. Craves more. He wants Chris so deep, deep inside, deep in him. He wants Chris to feel drunk too. He wants Chris to love this too. Love him too. He wants Chris to beg him not to leave, like Sebastian will as soon as Chris is done with him.

Sebastian wants Chris to moan, he wants to hear what it’s like. What Chris’ voice sounds like when he comes so hard he cries. When he comes so hard he grips meanly at his hips, leaving cherished bruises for weeks.

Sebastian wants that Boston voice messing up words and speaking in tongues, because Sebastian feels so good he can’t think straight anymore. Sebastian wants to get him so high. He wants to be so good.

He wants to be so good.

He can be so good. He can suck him off, he can stay still, he can make a whole show for him, he can obey any order. Anything he wants. Anything he might desire. He can give him that and so much more; he stops thinking, stops listing, too lost in the snaps of his hips. 

He can be so good to him; if Chris wants him.

Chris thrusts hard and whispers close and Sebastian begs with eyes closed. He moans, groans, whines and pleads. He tells Chris what crosses his mind and Chris stops before he heaves a sigh Sebastian can’t decrypt.

Sebastian stiffens and backtracks, but Chris pushes deep inside and starts to move back and forth once more. He leans in close again, and Sebastian stops breathing again.

“Wanna be mine?” He says; doesn’t ask.

Sebastian nods, still voiceless.

Chris thrusts then states; “You’re mine.”

Sebastian purrs, Chris catches his mouth. Hard and soft and sweet at the same time. Possessive, yet kind and loving.  Sebastian melts against the bed. He tilts up his ass, hiding his face, so flushed, so red.

Chris stops again and his hand travels his back, lingers on the dimples and breathes back, “You’re mine, only mine.

Sebastian nibbles and bites, poor lower lip so swollen and ripped.

“Say it,” he commands and Sebastian loses his mind. Chris’ voice so masculine and virile, Sebastian forgets to breathe.

“Say it,” he demands with a softer hand on his skin and a sweeter, honeyed, voice behind him.

“I’m yours,” Sebastian murmurs, believing already.

“Damn right,” Chris marvels, and Sebastian thaws like winter snow on the first sunny day. “All mine,” Chris says; Sebastian believes.

His hips snapping hard, Chris’ hand goes to Sebastian’s hair, grips tight, and Sebastian obeys. He straightens, back against that unbelievable muscled chest.

“Mine,” Chris reminds Sebastian, reminds himself. Chris wants to believe, too. Sebastian loves that. Loves him. Sebastian’s all his to play with.

Lips parted, he waits for Chris to deign him a kiss. He waits while Chris stares, observes. Captivating eyes and eyelashes fluttering, red beard cheek, lips exhaling air, and Sebastian drowns in it all. He waits, waits, waits, Chris so hard inside of him, unmoving.

Chris pulls tight on his hair then crashes their mouths together, rough and hurried. Sebastian moans, mewls perhaps yelps; every sound Chris swallows. He moves again and Sebastian holds on those lips, the loving taste on the tips.

“All yours,” he tells Chris, _I’m all yours if you want me_.  

A hand slides up his chest, protective, yet possessive. Claiming what belongs to him. Sebastian belongs to him. Smirking, Chris bites Sebastian’s lip, tugs on it. Begins moving hard inside of him again.

Every snap saying _“mine”,_ and every one of Sebastian’s moans responding, “ _yours, all yours, forever yours.”_

Chris’ fingers goes to Sebastian’s cock and stroke. Chris grins, pleased by the sounds Sebastian lets out without caring. Chris kisses, loves, worships. He licks drops of sweat, rolling from the heat on Sebastian’s neck.

Sebastian calls that name. His name. Chris’ name. Again and again and Chris speaks, says he’s good, but Chris is mean. Chris says no. Chris says he can’t come, not yet. Sebastian wants to protest but he can’t speak words, can’t even make sounds. Chris says to wait. Chris says he can wait. He does.

He does.

Obeys. Good. He’s good to him. Chris moves inside and caresses him and Sebastian finally lets out a moan. A purr, mewing and rolling his neck. Chris likes that, Chris tells him. Kitten, he calls him. Sebastian likes that too, but doesn’t say it. Chris gets to his ear and Sebastian shivers.

“Has anybody ever told you how hot you are?” Chris whispers, with seduction dripping in his tone from beyond this world.

Sebastian whines.

“So hot and all mine.”

“All yours,” he echoes back, without answering the previous question.  It doesn’t matter who calls him what; Chris calls him _his_ and that’s all he needs.

All he wants.

Chris smiles again and it blinds him, pink flesh and white teeth, pride gleaming from the wet lips.

Sebastian misses those lips. Wants them back. Anywhere, really, as long as they’re touching him. Chris gets it, pressing his mouth back on Sebastian’s.

Chris teases him, meaner. He strokes Sebastian once, slowly. Sebastian bites him hard. He cuts Chris’ lips with sharp teeth, blood in his mouth.

Sebastian bites his own, ashamed, Chris’ hand goes to wipe and see. He’s not stroking any longer, Sebastian deserves it. Chris looks back at him;  “Biting hm? Noted.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian apologies, to his flashing grin.

“Scratching too?”

“Sometimes.”

“Don’t mind it wild,” Chris confesses. There’s more pride in his eyes, as he looks at Sebastian, than in the sound of his voice as he says the words.

Too beautiful eyes, too blue, too green.

“I love you,” Sebastian lets out too. Couldn’t stop any moan before, couldn’t stop those words now either. He doesn’t have time to worry, Chris kisses him softly.

“I’ll make you happy,” Chris says, promise on the taste of his lips. “I’ll make you happy baby,” he says again, words of wonder carried on blood coated lips.

His hips do God’s work, moving back and forth, and his lips promise heaven. Chris’ eyes hold that spark of sin. Sebastian loves that too and kisses his jaw and his chin. Chris then whispers things that should be punishable by law. Too indecent, too obscene. He loves him too. He wants him too, all his. Sebastian’s all his because Chris wants him. Claims him. He wants him selfishly. _Oh_ , all his. Forever his. Whatever Chris wants to do, Sebastian’s his. Entirely his. Devotedly his.

Sebastian moans and Chris kisses him again. Kisses him another time, and more times. More until his lips are numb from attention. He moans. Whines. Begs again. Please. Just please.

_Oh please._

Chris says _yes_ , this time. He says _yes_ and praises him. Tells Sebastian how good he feels and how good he is, so obedient, that he listens so well.  So sweet, so perfect. Chris makes him shudder and shiver and shake. He makes Sebastian tremble from love. Too much love. Too much.

Too much.

Sebastian comes back to himself. Light, so light. Eyes closed and jaw hanging, dry mouth and parched throat. He gets that sound, or something close, he gets that noise he craved. That he still craves. Chris groans then grunts, a low sound in Sebastian’s ear. His hand goes to Chris’ cheek and touches his beard. It’s so bristly underneath his fingertips, so fantastic.

Chris breathes again, reminding Sebastian to as well. He inhales, helium in his lungs. He’s flying. Light, light in Chris’ arms. Weak knees sunk into the mattress. Light head against Chris’ clavicle.

Chris’ light voice is crooning sweet nothings in his ear. His light kisses dot across his face, and neck, and shoulder blades. He kisses. Kisses, kisses some more. Asks questions Sebastian can only nod at, his hand still loving his beard.

Chris moves; Sebastian whines, complains. Twenty seconds, maybe more, maybe less. Sebastian’s wrapped in smooth sheets with a bottle at his lips. In Chris’ arms. Chris’ voice is soothing, so cosy and loving. His head on Chris’ chest, perfect muscles for pillow; a kiss from Chris on his forehead before Sebastian falls asleep.


End file.
